


i think too much and i hate it

by thewonderzebra



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Introspection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-08-21 15:15:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16578974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewonderzebra/pseuds/thewonderzebra
Summary: The question cuts through the peaceful silence that has fallen over Brad and Patrice on a Saturday night, seemingly coming out of nowhere. Brad is comfortably resting in Patrice's arms, in their bed while they watch TV. His head is pillowed on the right side of Patrice's chest, his hand resting on the left side over his love's heart while Patrice holds him close, absentmindedly stroking Brad's back...."Bergy, do you hate me?"ORBrad's been internalizing all of the hatred directed at him outside of Boston, and he wonders if the one person who matters most to him might also hate him. Patrice reassures him.





	i think too much and i hate it

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blindbatalex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blindbatalex/gifts).



> Alex (@blindbatalex) posted a gif-set that had some meta thoughts on it, and wanted me to capitalize on that. So thanks, Alex for prompting me to write this. I hope you (and everyone else) like it!

The question cuts through the peaceful silence that has fallen over Brad and Patrice on a Saturday night, seemingly coming out of nowhere. Brad is comfortably resting in Patrice's arms, in their bed while they watch TV. His head is pillowed on the right side of Patrice's chest, his hand resting on the left side over his love's heart while Patrice holds him close, absentmindedly stroking Brad's back. 

While Patrice seems content to lay peacefully with his other half, thinking about nothing substantial, Brad cannot get his mind to be as settled. Following their last road trip, where his welcome in different teams' territories was far less than the welcome his teammates received, he has been unable to keep his mind from going in circles. Even in the most peaceful moments where he seeks refuge in Patrice's arms, lets Patrice's heartbeat lull him to sleep, Brad cannot stop thinking. 

By the time they arrive home, Brad's anxiety over his unsettled, nagging thoughts has reached a boiling point. He tries to keep Patrice uninvolved for as long as he can--he doesn't want to drag his gentle, easygoing husband into the twisted depths of his mind. He tries to lie still in Patrice's arms, tries to focus on the TV, tries everything available to him in the moment to get settled down; and he tries to do all of this while maintaining a normal, relaxed body posture so as not to raise Patrice's suspicions. This is all to no avail, however, and, before he can help it, his anxious thoughts are rolling off his tongue in the form of a question:

"Bergy, do you hate me?" 

Patrice is grateful that he is not behind the wheel of a car, because he certainly would have swerved off the road. He is absolutely floored at the words that come out of his husband's mouth, especially since here Brad is, having been lying quietly in his arms for as long as they have been in bed. The question echoes around in his mind, nearly stopping his heart when he comes to recognize how defeated, how uncharacteristically small and shy Brad's voice is.

"What?" Patrice blurts out, hating how abrupt the word sounds coming out of his mouth. He wishes he could have dignified a better response--any other response, really. But he genuinely does not understand where Brad's question is coming from, and he is taken aback that his other half could possibly think so little of him. 

Brad buries his face against Patrice's chest then, like he is trying to hide from the world, and Patrice forces his muscles to relax. He strokes Brad's hair a few times, then works his hand down his neck, and then resumes rubbing his back in attempts to achieve some state of normalcy between them once more. 

"Marchy, what are you talking about?" Patrice tries asking again, this time his voice far less harsh. "Of course I don't hate you." 

From the relative safety of having his face hidden by Patrice's solid chest muscles, Brad takes a few deep breaths and tries to collect his thoughts. Although his impulsivity is secret to no one, he knows babbling will get him nowhere in this situation. He likes to think that if he truly has any talent, it is that he knows when to use his impulsive nature for positive outcomes and when to hold himself back (though this is a topic of debate currently fueling his mind's insecurity). So, he pauses for a moment before giving Patrice an answer. 

"I know you don't," Brad sighs. "It's just that everyone else around me seems to hate me, unless I'm in Boston. Whenever we go on the road, I get booed at, and people call me a rat; which, for the most part, I don't care about. But I'm constantly getting scrutinized, and as much as I try to ignore it and focus on my game, there's a part of me that's starting to internalize it all, and I'm starting to believe it's my game that's causing all of this."

Again, Brad pauses. He doesn't even have to look up to know that Patrice is frowning, his eyebrows furrowed as he takes in Brad's words and tries to make sense of them. He wants to look up, to smooth the potential worry and certain concentration from Patrice's face, but for the first time in his life, he is scared to. He is scared that somehow, by internalizing all the hatred being thrown at him, he no longer has a right to know Patrice's emotions.

"I know you're going to say that I'm elite, Bergy," Brad continues, even more softly than before. "I know you're going to say that you're proud of me. But I think about this every time we go on the road and I get hate, and I guess there are only so many times you can internalize other people's words before you start to believe them for yourself. I hoped representing Team Canada and being on the All Star team would change people's perceptions of me, but I guess not…and now I'm stuck here wondering if I deserve all the hate I get, and if you might hate me too." 

Patrice wants more than anything to be quick to reassure Brad, to murmur words of love and promises in order to soothe him. But he knows that isn't what Brad is looking for right now, and he won't be the one to disrespect his love by deflecting and distracting. He takes in Brad's words carefully, and thinks for several moments before responding. 

"You're right that I am proud of you and that you are elite, Marchy," Patrice begins. "But you are so incredibly wrong in thinking that I would hate you. People give you hate because they don't understand the way you play. They don't understand how hard you've worked to be in the NHL, and because they don't understand the reasoning for you playing the way you do, they are quick to hate you. I know that people have faulty logic, and I understand that people's hatred of you stems from a lack of understanding, but also because they think you're a threat to their teams' chances of winning." 

Patrice pauses to brush his lips across Brad's forehead. "I know you see and hear and feel the hatred, ange, and I know that it's difficult to internalize hate and anger when it's directed at you. But the fact that you're a threat is a really valuable asset to our team, and it should be a huge compliment to you and the way you play. You've done what you needed to do to get to the top, and you are so incredible at what you do." 

He pauses once more to let his words sink in a bit. "Brad, look at me," Patrice commands gently. Slowly, Brad lifts his head and props himself up enough to meet Patrice's eyes. 

"You were meant to be a hockey player," Patrice says, cupping Brad's cheek tenderly. "And you are so loved in Boston. You are so loved by me, and I could never, ever hate you. For anything. Besides, it's kind of fun when people hate you on road trips, ange." 

Brad feels like he might have a heart attack, but continues to meet Patrice's gaze. He is marginally comforted by the way his other half's eyes have begun to sparkle. "Why's that?" he asks, hoping his voice doesn't sound too anxious or defensive. 

Patrice flat out smiles. "Because," he replies. "Then I have a reason to protect you on the ice and be closer to you than usual." 

The fear and anxiety that had built up in Brad's mind instantly melt away, and a smile breaks out on his face despite himself. "God, I love you," he murmurs, and leans up to steal a quick kiss. The left winger is delighted when Patrice kisses him back [like he knew he would, but still], and threads a hand in his hair. 

"Je t'aime aussi, Marchy," Patrice murmurs in reply. "Please don't ever think that I hate you, mon amour, because I never will. I'll always be here to remind you of how loved you are, no matter if we're in Boston or somewhere else. You should never have to internalize hate, and I promise you that you don't have to do it alone." 

Brad can't think of anything to say to that which wouldn't have him in tears, so he nods, and kisses Patrice once more before wrapping himself around him and settling his head on Patrice's chest again. Patrice responds in kind, and simply holds him close, making good on his promise to be there, and hoping the love he feels for the man in his arms is somehow being conveyed.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you again for indulging me! I hope you enjoyed reading. Comments make me smile and make the plot bunnies happy, so leave one below if you'd like! I thrive on positive feedback ;).  
> Come say hi to me on Tumblr, too, if you're there...you can find me @thewonderzebra.


End file.
